


He Never Stays

by pennywife



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Drunk Sex, F/M, Jealousy, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Violence, Repetition, Short, Smut, mentions of gore, slight daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 09:43:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18427985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennywife/pseuds/pennywife
Summary: You hate her.





	He Never Stays

He doesn’t like it that you’re young. He doesn’t like it that you smoke, doesn’t like sucking the nicotine from your lips when he presses you down onto your couch. He doesn’t like this little party-house you live in, and the constant fear of being seen. He doesn’t like that you spread your legs for him raw without batting an eye. He doesn’t like that you call him ‘Daddy’ when you do this. He doesn’t like coming here. He doesn’t like _you._

Not the way he does Sally.

You can smell her in his hair, can taste the sweet stain of her lip-balm at the bottom of his ear. You can feel the scars of her claws on his flesh, ripping at his mind until nothing is left but bone. Barry is here, with you right now in this room, and all you can think about is how much you miss him.

“Stay the night tonight.” You whisper, hands fumbling at the button of your jeans. “Just tonight. Please.”

He blinks at you, and you swear to God that look in his eyes is disgust.

“Don’t— Don’t ask me to do that.”

You nod at him, like the good little toy he wants you to be.

Sweat pools at the back of your knees. You could come from this, just from the sight of him unbuckling his belt alone. Pavlov’s bell; the gentle clinking of metal is all it takes for the bitch in you to start salivating. Aching. Dripping. Wanting. He pulls himself free, cock heavy and weeping, and even though you don’t want to, you think about _her._

You hate her. Oh, how you just fucking _hate her._ You hate the vapidness, her pretty blonde hair, and the bubble she locks herself inside of. You’d give anything to be in that bubble, and not out here, aching and hurting with the rest of the awful world around you. She doesn’t know what he is, what he does.

But you do.

You know _everything._

All the throats those long fingers have wrapped themselves so tightly around, all the bullets he’s fired and the lives he’s snuffed out into a cold and endless night. You know every terrible thing this motherfucker has done, and she doesn’t even know his real name.

“Is it in?”

Your eyes open again. His arms are by your head, and you dig your nails into them as hard as you can. You want to leave a mark. You want her to see where he’s been.

“Yes.” You hiss, rolling your hips up until he’s buried to the hilt. _“Move.”_  

It’s not always just fucking, but tonight it is. It’s all that he needs; blood on his clothes, gunpowder on the tips of his fingers. He fucks you like he hates you, and for all you know he does. He never calls. He never stays. He uses you, and it’s so long, and it pains you when he forces himself all the way inside. It feels like something might collapse within you, might shatter like glass, might break you open beneath the weight of his body. He hurts you, and the hurt feels _good._

“Do I feel good, Barry? Do I feel good? Do I feel good? Do I feel good?”

There’s no answer. There never is. When he comes his back arches, and he looks like he might cry. His cock twitches, eyes slammed shut, and he fucks you through it the way he did in the beginning. He leaves you sore, and raw, and stinging with the pain of not even bothering to pull himself out of you before finishing.

Anger hardens your heart. You can feel it growing, changing, reddening your face with the scorn of every woman who’s ever wanted a man who wanted someone better.

“I hate it when you come here.”

“Yeah.” He breathes, still hard inside of you. “Me too.”

You tell him that this was it, that this was the last fucking time, but you know in your gut that it isn’t.

He’ll be back again. 

And again.

And again.


End file.
